


Friendship on Fire

by muchmorethanaprincess



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Brief mentions of suicide, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Smut, fireman!bellamy, pining!clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 12:51:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5540741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muchmorethanaprincess/pseuds/muchmorethanaprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy's a fireman, Clarke's got the hots, no one is surprised. </p><p>A birthday present for blakesdoitbetter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friendship on Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blakesdoitbetter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakesdoitbetter/gifts).



> I know Caitlin has a thing for fireman!Bellamy, and it's her birthday, so HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVE. Everyone deserves smut on their birthday ;) Thank you for always being my fanfic cheerleader and just for being my friend. You're wonderful and I hope you have a fabulous birthday <3
> 
> My cousin is a fireman for the LAFD, so the two experiences mentioned are actually real stories I've heard from him.  
> Also please excuse the extremely cheesy title, and enjoy!

 

 

Clarke is pretty used to Bellamy showing up at her apartment at any given time. She lives closer to his station than he does, and sometimes he’s exhausted when he gets off his shifts at weird times, so he drives to Clarke’s place and passes out on her couch, which is admittedly very comfortable.

She doesn’t mind. Bellamy’s her best friend, and she likes having him around. Plus, he sees a lot of shit, working for the LA Fire Department, and Clarke knows he needs to decompress after some of it, and he shouldn’t be alone with his thoughts. They watch Netflix or play video games or make food, and she’s happy to be the sunshine he needs after a hard shift.

She gave him his own key after a while, so he can get in right away if she isn’t home at the moment, so she’s not surprised when she wakes up at two in the morning to the sounds of her front door shutting, the deadbolt sliding back into place, and heavy steps ambling around her kitchen.

“Bell, is that you?” she calls.

There’s a pause, then he shouts back “Yes!” but his voice sounds strange.

She rolls over a minute later when she hears him approach her bedroom, and sees him standing in the doorway, a glass of water in hand and a blank expression on his face.

“Hey,” she whispers. She smiles softly, but he doesn’t respond, his face falling into a frown as he avoids her eyes.

“What happened?”

He shakes his head, drags a hand over his face. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She sits up, her covers bunching around her hips.

“Okay.” She nods.

He stares at her for a moment, his face serious and dark.

She reaches her hands out for him at the same time he says, “Can I just—” cutting off with a strangled sound and making it to her bed in a second, settling into her as she lays back and pulls him in.

She doesn’t even think about it as she drags her short nails up his back, scratching lightly through his t-shirt and feeling relieved when he shivers and pushes his face further into her neck. He wraps an arm around her waist, holding her securely, and for all the casual cuddling they’ve done over the years, this might be the closest she’s ever really been to him.

She loves him. It’s easy and simple and she’s known it for months, but it’s never been more painfully obvious that it is now, as she runs her fingers through his hair soothingly, listening to his breathing even out as he drifts off.

She’s roused in the early hours of the morning, having turned sometime in the night to face the window, which is filled by a slowly brightening purple sky. She realizes what woke her a moment later, when Bellamy, who is obviously awake but probably doesn’t realize she is, adjusts his position on the bed and curls around her from behind.

She closes her eyes as his arm loops over her stomach and his hand grasps hers, twining their fingers together. She tries to keep her breathing steady as he settles against her back and tucks his face into her hair.

Her heart squeezes in her chest.

She wakes again a few hours later, startled for a moment when she realizes Bellamy’s no longer in bed next to her, but she hears noises from the kitchen a second later.

She walks out to find Bellamy and a fresh pot of coffee waiting for her.

“So,” she says, as she grabs a mug, “do you want to tell me what happened last night?”

He exhales loudly and waits while she pours her coffee, stirs in milk, and takes a sip.

“It was a suicide,” he says, face blank as he stares at the ground.

“Oh, Bell,” she sighs. She’s heard horrific stories, things he only tells her because he’s too tired and wrecked to hold it in, things he would never dare tell Octavia, but needs to tell _someone_. She’ll never forget him drunkenly sobbing about the woman who burned in his hands because he couldn’t get the bars off her window.

“It’s not like this doesn’t happen often enough,” he says, the pain echoing in his voice, “But I was _so close_ , I was almost there when he jumped. I was reaching for him.”

She steps into him immediately, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her face against his neck. He holds her back tightly.

“I’m so sorry, Bell. I’m glad you came here, though.”

He lets his head drop to her shoulder.

“Yeah, me too.”

 

She visits him at the station a few weeks later. It’s a holiday, so lots of families are visiting, but Octavia couldn’t come and told Clarke that she had to go in her place, so Bellamy would feel supported.

“I don’t want him being mopey when all the other guys have their wives and kids there,” she’d said, but Clarke didn’t need much convincing.

It’s the first time she’s actually been there, so Bellamy takes her through the station, entertains her questions about how things work, and even puts on his uniform so she can take goofy pictures of him next to one of the fire trucks.

She tries not to drool.

The California sun is bright, and Bellamy’s smiling the whole time, and it’s a good reminder of how much he loves his job. He gets to save people, but he also gets to do ridiculous shit like work safety at the Grammys and stand ten feet away from Beyoncé, and he loves all of it.

He introduces Clarke to everyone at the station, and blushes and stutters when they rib him about Clarke being “the girlfriend” he supposedly always talks about. Clarke just grins and goes with it when Bellamy’s closest coworker, Raven, threatens to steal her away, winking playfully.

Bellamy rolls his eyes and apologizes to Clarke, but she doesn’t mind.

In fact, she kind of loves it.

 

He shows up at her apartment in the early hours of the morning a week later. He hasn’t slept in her bed again since that first night, but she rolls over when she hears him in her bedroom.

He’s hopping out of his shoes clumsily, and when she asks what he’s doing, he says, “Your apartment is fucking freezing, there’s no way I’m sleeping on the couch right now.”

“You’re such a baby,” she says, but she pulls the covers back for him.

He strips off his pants, leaving just his t-shirt and boxers, and slides in next to her, grabbing her and huddling into her warmth.

“I must have forgotten to turn up the heat,” she says, but Bellamy shakes his head against her shoulder.

“No, it’s raining and your apartment has shitty insulation.”

“It’s raining?” Clarke asks excitedly, trying to sit up to look out the window, but Bellamy holds her down by the waist.

“Jesus Christ, woman, stop that. I’m trying to thaw here, do you mind?”

She giggles in response and settles down, and they fall asleep after talking for a minute.

 

She wakes up to Bellamy spooned around her, and when she moves, she notices his obvious arousal pressing against her backside.

She _shouldn’t_ , she thinks. But she can hardly stop herself from pushing her hips back into his, letting her ass rub against him through his boxers. It only takes a few movements before she can feel him hardening further, and she nearly moans.

She’s already wet, and she’s not thinking about anything beyond Bellamy’s delicious body behind her when his hand grips her hip suddenly, stilling her.

“Clarke,” he groans.

 _Shit_.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

She can’t think of anything to say, beyond a mortified, “Um,” so she repeats her movement instead, pushing her ass into him.

He moans, his hips jolting against her.

She does it again, and he moves his hand in response, trailing his fingers slowly over her stomach, to the waistband of her pajama shorts.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice hoarse.

“Yes,” she breathes, and moves her leg to rest atop his, making space for his hand as it sneaks beneath her underwear.

“Oh,” she gasps quietly, when his fingers gather her arousal and then focus on her clit, moving in slow, torturous circles that have her almost squirming against him.

“Bell, _please_ ,” she begs, and he laughs into her shoulder.

He’s pressed tightly against her back, so every little sway of her hips into his fingers also brushes against his cock, and he finally stops teasing her. He brings her to the brink almost embarrassing fast, with quick, short strokes, and then pushes her over the edge when he kisses her neck, hot and openmouthed, biting just hard enough to make her cry out.

She comes with a long moan, rocking desperately against his hand as he draws it out as long as he can.

She reaches down to pull her shorts and underwear off, then tries to roll onto her stomach and pull Bellamy on top of her, but he halts her movements and makes her roll onto her back.  
“Hey, I like it that way!” she whines.

Bellamy nearly chokes at that, but recovers.

“Later. Right now I need to see your face.”

She softens, biting her lip shyly as he looks down at her. But then she can’t wait any longer, so she reaches for his shirt, which he willingly sheds.

She runs her hands over his bare shoulders as he moves down her body, kissing up her stomach as he inches her shirt up, moaning at her breasts when they’re revealed and teasing them until she arches up into his mouth.

He tosses her shirt aside and kisses up her neck, brushing her jaw sweetly, until he reaches her mouth. He holds her face, tracing a thumb over her cheekbone.

“This isn’t casual, right?” he asks, his voice only betraying a hint of his nerves.

She smiles, a bright flash in the sunlight filtering through the window.

“Right.”

Bellamy dives into their first kiss, and Clarke moans into it. She can barely reach his boxers fast enough, pushing at them until he takes over and removes them himself, while she twists to the nightstand to retrieve a condom.

He kisses her at the same time he pushes into her, and it’s all she can do to cling to his arms and keep breathing through the pleasure.

“Bellamy,” she gasps. He thrusts, scattering her thoughts, and she rocks up against him urgently. He grunts into her neck, and she can’t slow down, can’t stop herself from pressing her fingers into his ass to spur him on, from leaning up to kiss his neck, from gripping his hair and dragging his mouth back to hers.

He moans her name, and Clarke practically whimpers at the sound.

It’s all faster and rougher than it maybe should be, but Clarke feels desperate with how long she’s wanted him, and can’t bring herself to mind.

Bellamy thumbs at her clit, and that’s all it takes. She can’t stop herself from shouting a moan as she comes, doesn’t even try. The waves of pleasure crash through her as Bellamy keeps going, chasing his own orgasm, and collapses a minute later, groaning in relief.

He catches his breath for a moment before rolling over so he doesn’t crush her, pulling Clarke on top of him. She buries her face in his neck, giggling. He raises his head just enough to kiss her hair while he runs his fingers over her back softly.

“So,” she lifts her head to look at him, stupid smiles crossing both their faces, “breakfast?”

 

They have some trouble making breakfast though, because Bellamy keeps wanting to pull Clarke onto his lap and make out with her, and she _really_ isn’t interested in stopping him.


End file.
